


(they'll call your heart of gold) your crowning glory

by Jelly



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Gen, is that a princess diaries reference? u bet it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26246518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jelly/pseuds/Jelly
Summary: “Do you understand now, My Lady?” Opeli asks. “This is not the same as a made-up title for the less progressive members of staff. When you marry His Highness this winter, you will be royalty. Your official title will be Her Royal Highness Rayla of the Moonshadow elves, Princess of Katolis. It's not as easy as the fairy tales make it sound."Of that, Rayla has no doubt. She just hadn't realized she'd never thought that far ahead.[Or: The Dragon Princess Diaries]
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 140





	(they'll call your heart of gold) your crowning glory

dear little girl, you are terribly blessed

Callum proposes to Rayla the summer she turns nineteen.

It’s not a surprise to anybody. They’ve been inseparable for over four years and they’ve made it  _ abundantly _ clear to everyone that their relationship goes far deeper than young love. The bards sing songs about their adventures, and they’ve heard at least three different versions of their romance from common folk who like to gossip, and in between the ambassadorial duties they take up for Ezran and their frequent visits to Xadia, it’s very much something everyone (Rayla included) considers a long time coming.

They don’t make a particularly big deal out of it. Rayla’s never been the type to enjoy more attention than she needs, and the simplicity of how it happens suits them more anyway. Callum presents her with the cuffs over tea and Moonberry flavoured jelly tarts—“Ethari helped me make them,” he says. “What do you think?”—and Rayla answers  _ yes  _ (obviously) as she hides her giggles and her joy in her tea. Their laughter echoes through the courtyard regardless, and they spend the rest of the evening dancing lazily under the glow of fireflies as they wink in the warm summer air. 

It’s beautiful. It’s surreal. Rayla can’t stop smiling for hours afterwards, even as she tucks herself around him, her nose against his neck, her lips against his bare shoulder, and for a whole, perfect evening, it’s just them: Callum and Rayla; without the titles, and the rules, and the complexities that come with being a human prince and an elven ambassador. 

And then Rayla wakes.

It’s a pleasant enough morning for all intents and purposes. She’s not even really sure why she woke to begin with. It’s early enough that the chill bites at her skin, but the warmth of Callum’s arms is comforting, and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing almost lulls her back to sleep until— 

_ Knock-knock-knock-knock. _

Rayla jolts upwards. She blinks tiredly at the mess on Callum’s floor, at the tangle of sheets around their legs, and then at the cuff box on the nightstand—her lips twitch upwards at the sight of it—before she climbs out bed at last, shrugs on one of Callum’s robes, and stumbles over the clutter to the door. 

She expects Ezran, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with a, “Congratulations!” at the ready, or Soren, maybe, looking for a partner for an early morning spar. 

She does  _ not _ expect Opeli, and she doubly doesn’t expect to be greeted by a bow.

“My Lady.”

Rayla wrinkles her brow, but a yawn escapes her before she has the chance to fight it off. “Opeli?” she manages. “I thought we agreed to cut the ‘My Lady’ thing three years ago. What on earth are you bowing for?”

Opeli straightens. This is not the first time she’s come to Callum’s door to find Rayla (the first time was mortifying as much as it was hilarious). Her left eye twitches just a little, and Rayla pulls the robe tighter around her figure, suddenly  _ very _ conscious about her state of (un)dress. “I understand circumstances have changed, My Lady,” she says. “Congratulations.”

“Oh. Um.” Rayla shifts uncomfortably under her stare. “Thank you, I guess? But I mean, it doesn’t change anything.”

“I’m afraid it does, My Lady.”

“Stop calling me that.”

Opeli presses her lips shut. She’s played the role of advisor and babysitter for long enough that Rayla recognises the way her eyes narrow—it reminds her a little of her mother, when she was around, only Opeli doesn’t quite have the heart to say  _ no.  _ She takes a breath. “My Lady,” she tries again. “There is a very great difference between being an ambassador and being a princess. You need to be prepared for the changes to come, and I think some instruction may be of benefit to you.”

Rayla stares. It’s the most diplomatically roundabout thing Opeli’s ever said to her—and that  _ includes  _ some of the things she’d said when Rayla first took up residence in the castle. Her sleep addled brain scrambles a little for purchase, and it picks up the words  _ princess _ and  _ instruction _ but doesn’t really make sense of them. “Come again?”

Opeli heaves a patient sigh. “There are some things you should learn before the wedding, My Lady. Customs. Etiquette. Behaviours more…  _ appropriate  _ for soon-to-be princesses.”

Rayla squints at her, and slowly,  _ slowly _ , the fog lifts. “Are you… recommending I take…  _ princess lessons _ ?”

There’s a pause. It’s the closest Rayla’s ever seen Opeli come to hesitating, but she nods after a moment. “If that’s what you want to call them, yes,” she says. 

Rayla barks out a laugh and just as quickly claps a hand over her mouth to stifle the noise. Callum’s still asleep, and she waits a moment, her breath bated, as he stirs in the bed but doesn’t wake. She steadies herself as she turns back to Opeli. “ _ Why? _ ”

Opeli raises an eyebrow at her, and all of a sudden, Rayla remembers she’s wearing one of  _ Callum’s  _ robes and that they’re having this talk in  _ his _ doorway. It’s…  _ highly irregular _ at its very least, and  _ horrendously inappropriate _ at its very worst. They’ve had to deal with scandals before, of course, but—

Opeli beats her to it. “Your previous arrangements have been…  _ fine _ ,” she says (although she says it sort of painedly, and Rayla gets the feeling that it’s not  _ really _ fine at all, despite her involvement in how it came to be), “but there’s a certain…  _ decorum _ royalty is expected to follow. There are nobles who won’t look kindly on you if you don’t. These…  _ lessons _ are to protect  _ you. _ ”

_ That _ makes Rayla scowl. “I can take care of myself, thank you,” she says crisply. “And we’ve dealt with worse than  _ nobles _ before.”

“This is not the same as an external threat,” warns Opeli. “Nobles are  _ petty _ and they are not a single enemy you can defeat. Marriage is  _ forever _ , My Lady. I have no doubt you and Prince Callum intend to pledge yourselves to each other for life, but are you really prepared to take their criticism for the  _ rest of your lives? _ ”

Rayla bristles. “Again,” she drawls, turning tiredly on her heel. “I’ve dealt with worse. Stop worrying, Opeli. And stop calling me  _ ‘My Lady _ ’, for Moon’s sake—”

“It’ll be ‘ _ Your Highness’  _ soon enough.”

Of all the things Opeli could have said to stop her, Rayla doesn’t think anything else might have been as effective. She’s been with Callum for long enough that she’s never even considered an alternative course of action, but she’s never considered the  _ other _ implications of being married to him either. He’s always been a prince, and she’s always known that, and Opeli’s been offering her  _ princess lessons _ the entirety of this conversation, but it’s like it’s only just clicked. She’s marrying  _ Callum,  _ Crown Prince of Katolis, and that’ll make her—

Opeli gives her a _look_ : thin lipped, brow creased, eyes serious. “Do you understand now, _My Lady_?” she asks. “This is not the same as a made-up title for the less progressive members of staff. Neither is it even remotely close to being an ambassador. When you marry His Highness this winter, you will be _royalty_. Your official title will be Her Royal Highness Rayla of the Moonshadow elves _, Princess of Katolis._ You will be the first _elven princess_ in Katolan history and you _will_ be under close scrutiny for the rest of your life. There are people who _will_ try to make your life miserable at every opportunity. Do _not_ give them those opportunities. You need to be prepared for them before they come.”

Rayla grimaces before she can stop herself. As much as Opeli is a traditionalist, she’s always gone out of her way to look out for her so Rayla  _ knows _ she means well. It was she who arranged for an extra bed for Callum in Rayla’s room when she found out she was plagued by nightmares once upon a time. It was she who’d sternly told the council to  _ back off _ when they’d grumbled and groaned about Rayla’s presence at council meetings. There’s no doubt that she’s offering this with Rayla’s best interest in mind.

It’s just… the title puts everything into sharp perspective and the future suddenly feels a lot heavier and a lot more terrifying.

Panic rises in Rayla’s chest. Her breath catches in her throat. This was so much simpler last night, when it was just her and Callum enjoying each other’s company, and the idea of being together for the rest of their lives. It was such bliss that they’d  _ forgotten _ about the titles, the implications, and the rest of the world. They'd forgotten what else it would mean for  _ her _ .

Opeli softens. When she speaks again, the sharpness in her tone is replaced by a sort of sincerity that dulls the anxiety building behind Rayla’s ribs. “I can’t  _ make _ you do anything you don’t want to do, Rayla _ ,  _ but you can't defend yourself with your blades in this instance. You will not just be Princess of Katolis. You will be  _ my _ Princess, and I have a duty to protect the Crown and its family in the ways that I can. It’s something you should consider, at least.”

Rayla swallows, because the more she thinks about it, the more she knows Opeli’s right. She’s not built for royalty. People from the other kingdoms already make snide comments about her relationship with Callum, and she’s been called an elven harridan (among worse) more than a handful of times. She doesn’t expect that sort of behaviour to go away. Now that she thinks about, it only makes sense for it to get worse. Arming herself against it isn't such a bad idea, but the concept of her being pretty and prim and proper isn't appealing, either.

She lets out a breath. “I’ll think about it,” she mutters at last. 

“Of course, My Lady,” says Opeli, taking a single step back. “Enjoy the rest of your morning. I’ll be in my office should you decide to take the offer.” She bows before she heads back down the hall, which only makes Rayla grimace more, but she shuts the door after her and leans her back against it with a sigh.

“What’s wrong?” 

That's Callum, and Rayla blinks to find bleary-eyed, bed-headed, and frowning at her from the mattress. 

Rayla chuckles and shakes her head. “Later,” she says quietly, and she means it. Her stomach churns with unease, but the domesticity of this settles her, and she picks her way over their mess and climbs back into bed. The world outside Callum’s door is daunting, but there’s safety in his arms, and she’s determined to enjoy it while she can.

x

They head down to breakfast a little later than usual to find Ez with Bait on his head, an armful of jelly tarts, and a smile too big for his face. He looks between them expectantly, obviously not wanting to be presumptuous (but really, what other answer could Rayla have given?), and Rayla rolls her eyes good-naturedly and chuckles.

“I said yes, obviously.”

He drops the tarts with a squeal so high Rayla almost winces and all but tackles them both around the waists. His joy catching—so catching that even Bait grumbles a little less grumpily than usual, and Callum laughs in his arms as Ez tries to squeeze the air out of their lungs. “Congratulations!” he cries. “I’m so happy for you both! I mean, it’s not a surprise, and we always figured you’d say yes, and it’s been a long time coming but—” He releases them at last and bounces happily on the balls of his feet. “I can’t believe you guys are going to get married!”

“Can’t you?” teases Rayla, and Ez snorts.

“You know what I mean,” he says, waving her off and stooping to pick up his dropped jelly tarts. He glances around them surreptitiously, like he’s checking that the coast is clear, before he squints at a tart and pops it into his mouth. 

Bait makes a face at him.

“Wha’?” asks Ez around a mouthful of pastry. “I’s a waste of a jelly tar’. Like you don’ do worse.”

“Still pretty gross, Ez,” chuckles Callum. “Don’t let Opeli catch you.”

Ezran shrugs and examines another one. “She’s not here,” he says, unconcerned. “Hey, I have to go—I have a meeting with a representative from Duren in like ten minutes. Give me wedding details later, okay?”

“There aren’t any yet, you know,” Rayla calls after him, but they wave him off anyway and settle into their usual seats at the table. 

The dining hall is otherwise empty now, save for the two guards stationed at the door. Callum helps himself to a scone and butters it mildly before he blinks and turns back to Rayla. 

“Speaking of Opeli,” he begins. “What was that all about this morning?”

Rayla considers him. Then she reaches for her own scone and tries to be casual about the way she cuts it open. “She was offering me princess lessons,” she says. “Did you get those?”

Callum lets out a laugh. “Not  _ princess _ ones per se, but yeah, I remember those. My mom had to get them too, before she married my step-dad. They’re okay. They’re all about manners, and how not to accidentally insult someone, and how to dress—” He pauses there when he catches the look on Rayla’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Oh. Um.” Rayla flushes a little at her jam. “It’s not that I’m—I’m not like, changing my mind or anything. It’s—uh—Opeli told me what my official title would be after the wedding and I… wasn’t the most prepared for it.”

Callum stares. “What do you mean?”

Rayla takes a breath. “I don’t know that I’m cut out to be a princess, Callum.”

Callum’s stare morphs into a frown. He sets the scone down carefully and shifts his chair around to face her better. “Are you having second thoughts?” he asks quietly.

“What? No! No.” Rayla clasps his hand across the table and squeezes his fingers gently. “I told you. I haven’t changed my mind. I just… forgot, I guess, that after the wedding I’m… supposed to be…” She shifts uncomfortably. “A  _ princess. _ ”

“Hey.” Callum squeezes her fingers back, and his lips tilt upwards into a reassuring smile. “It won’t change anything. Not really. No one’ll ask you to do anything you don’t want to do and I think they’re supposed to be guidelines more than anything else.” He presses a kiss into her knuckles then and rubs his thumb along her fingers. 

“Do they help?”

“A little, I guess.” He pauses. “I think they were more important for my mom. She was a pretty unconventional choice for my dad, and I think a lot of people were unfair to her for it. I was pretty young, so I don’t remember that well, but Dad did talk about how people were really rude to her for being a widow and marrying into royalty.” His frown deepens, like the more he thinks about it, the more the implications of their marriage make themselves clear. “I don’t want that for you,” he says suddenly. “The disrespect, I mean. People are already rude just because you’re an elf and I don’t want anyone treating you with less respect than you deserve. Again, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do but… if you’re asking me if it’s a good idea, I think it might be worth thinking about.”

“We’ve dealt with worse, haven’t we?”

“Yes,” says Callum. “We have. But… I want you to be happy, Rayla. And if they come after you…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. Rayla knows that look. There’s  _ guilt  _ in his eyes. He hadn’t just asked her to marry him last night, she realizes—he’d asked her to marry his whole kingdom. He’s only Ez’s heir presumptive, and the title of Crown Prince goes away once Ezran has a blood heir of his own, but still—it’s a lot to ask of someone.

It’s a lot to ask of someone  _ already _ under constant scrutiny for being an elf.

She shakes her head. Rayla’s afraid of exactly two things: water, and losing Callum. She’s not afraid of  _ this _ .

“Hey,” she says, turning his attention back to her. “It’s gonna be fine.  _ I’ll _ be fine.”

“Rayla, I—”

“Shush.” She smiles, and she kisses his fingers this time, a stubborn grin pulling at her lips. “They’re not scaring me off that easily. They’re princess lessons. How hard can they be?”

**Author's Note:**

> You may be thinking: Jelly don't you have three other unfinished WIPs?
> 
> yeah, i do, don't @ me, i'm very stressed and i have no idea what i'm doing. this, at least, is limited to 10ish chapters and i've a better chance of finishing it bc i refuse to make it any more complicated than it sounds. it's the dragon princess diaries. fight me.


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